"THOUGH NARROW BE THAT OLD MAN'S CARES"
"------gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."
Written at Coleorton. This old man's name was Mitchell. He was,
in all his ways and conversation, a great curiosity, both
individually and as a representative of past times. His chief
employment was keeping watch at night by pacing round the house,
at that time building, to keep off depredators. He has often told
me gravely of having seen the Seven Whistlers and the Hounds as
here described. Among the groves of Coleorton, where I became
familiar with the habits and notions of old Mitchell, there was
also a labourer of whom, I regret, I had no personal knowledge;
for, more than forty years after, when he was become an old man, I
learnt that while I was composing verses, which I usually did
aloud, he took much pleasure, unknown to me, in following my steps
that he might catch the words I uttered; and, what is not a little
remarkable, several lines caught in this way kept their place in
his memory. My volumes have lately been given to him by my
informant, and surely he must have been gratified to meet in print
his old acquaintances.
THOUGH narrow be that old Man's cares, and near,
The poor old Man is greater than he seems:
For he hath waking empire, wide as dreams;
An ample sovereignty of eye and ear.
Rich are his walks with supernatural cheer;
The region of his inner spirit teems
With vital sounds and monitory gleams
Of high astonishment and pleasing fear.
He the seven birds hath seen, that never part,
Seen the SEVEN WHISTLERS in their nightly rounds,
And counted them: and oftentimes will start--
For overhead are sweeping GABRIEL'S HOUNDS
Doomed, with their impious Lord, the flying Hart
To chase for ever, on aerial grounds!